All neighborhoods have that house on the end of the block, the place that seems off, that no one goes to except on bets. Sometimes it's haunted, sometimes destitute, sometimes damaged and condemned. Sometimes it's all three. Houses like that have a personality all their own, usually with some sort of legend ascribed to them, or tale of death and tragedy. Sometimes they're true. Sometimes the truth is worst than the story.

...Jacob burst out of the water, gasping for breath, coughing furiously, expeling cold water and brine from his lungs. He flopped into the mud like a dead fish, the night air chilling his skin. The stars above twinkled indifferently as the world spun around him. The night sky above was wonderful and terrifying in its implications.

He wasn't in Hell.

Anymore.

Memories swam to the surface. His death, his blood flowing freely, his tortured existance is a bound blood spirit, feeding on the essence of others merely to survive, death and destruction again, then his soul being ripped from purgatory, existance in a horrid unlife, bound to Old Bones, a slave. Those memories were more vivid, more recent. He remembered feeling the power, the duel. Old Bones had been destroyed. He'd been set free, only to be cast down into Hell. And his savior ...

Hello Jacob.

That voice. His voice.

You look a wreck, as usual

The devil himself. Nathaniel Majere.He could only laugh, a horrible, broken, sardonic laugh. Only men that were already dead could laugh like that. His voice was low and rough, raspy like a life time smoker. Sorry. Probably look like I've BEEN THROUGH HELL!!. He attacked, or tried to. He ended up falling back into the mud again, his fingers clawing at the ground, wishing it was the elf's passive face. He hated that face. It was beautiful. Too beautiful, like an angel. Like Lucifer himself. I'll kill you Nathaniel. he growled, meaning the words with every ounce of hate he could muster.

The elf stood impasive still, again wearing that damned white, even in the mud. And of course, he was spotless.Not tonight Jacob. You're still weak. In a few years perhaps, if you had the time. You don't.And it's Natan now. Nathaniel, like you, is dead.

Again Sinn laughed the horrible laugh of the damned. Tell me a new one Natan. It's the same old story. You can't do anything else to me. "What ever doesn't kill me", right? Well guess what; I did die! And I'm getting stronger every second. He bit the words off, hate and bile coming up his throat. He could feel his strength returning. He was slowly rising out of the muck. He would ring the damn man's throat, kill the devil himself!

Of course you are. I brought you back. I dragged your sorry ass out of HellSinn wanted to spit. He did.You don't have the juice! His strength was returning fast.

The things you do not know about me would fill libraries for ages Sinner. We don't have much time. You'll be able to stand soon, which means you'll try to kill me. I just had this suit cleaned and I don't plan on spending the time on it again.

Sinn growled.You're a bastard.

The elf shrugged. Even if it's true, you don't see me insulting your parentage, do you? Try and remain civil for the next 30 seconds and listen.

Sinn did, but only to let the hate burn up inside, giving him strength. Giving him power. Majere would know wrath.Better. Listen; you are on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain . I would have pulled you back from somewhere else but your case was ... special. It had to be done. There is a car waiting for you, ignition already set to your biometrics. Your old home is not so far away, and the directions are already programmed in, in case you've forgotten after your extended stay in Hell.

Your family ... they are waiting for you. Dante is dead. He was killed ... five years ago, while Old Bones still held you. The Baron has them all now. You are all that is left. He is holding them, waiting for you. It's you he wants, God knows why. Go home, and you may be able to free them, or at least trade your soul for theirs. Sorry for the bad news on your birthday.

You're about ready to throttle me, so I'll leave you now. Go tonight. You won't have another chance.

At that, the elf in white turned and walked away frmo the shore line. His shoes never sank into the muck.

WHY!? Why are you doing this? Why now?!

The man in white paused. When had his hair gone black. He never turned around. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Sinn laughed his harsh laugh, still trying to rise out of the muck. Try me. I've been to Hell and back. I've heard it all.Majere paused, quiet for a moment. Because I'm sorry. What was done to you was monstrous. I was a part of that. I was wrong. Perhaps we can both make amends for the things we've done. It seems ... a good night for that.Then he was gone. Not left, just gone. Sinn laughed again at the ridiculousness of it all.....

The car had been there, just as he said. The devil did always deliver on his promises, even if it wasn't in the way you expected. The car wasn't much, a simple black sedan with blacked out windows. The tan leather interior was nice though.He turned on the radio for shits and grins.

Oh you have got to be shitting me.An AR message popped up on the windshield display, a text message from Nathaniel ... Natan.

Clothes are in the trunk. I took the liberty. Everything should be in your size. Remember , good guys wear black. - N

Again Sinn shook his head. Smart assOpening the trunk, a black suit was on a hanger attached to the bottom of the turnk lid. Black on black, with a black tie, and black silk shirt. Everythign was designer, custom, of the best material. No doubt tailored to fit. Majere would make sure that he'd look his best at his own funeral. Well ... Hell with it. Even if I die ... at least I'll [i]look[i] good. Same old dance, different tune.He put on the clothes. Time to put on ma' dancin' shoes.

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